Friday, January 7, 2011

Jersey Shore: An SEO title if ever there was one

No contest; we breed 'em right in Amurca.
Good news, everyone!  My roommate is getting progressively more British.  Within the past week he has made shepherd's pie, used the word "whingeing," and made repeated attempts to find the 'loo only to have me direct him to the bathroom.  While I'm happy about the development, it should be said that Paddington** is not of the lovably sardonic British variety.  Rather than Monty Python, he gets off on plundering your homeland for natural resources before colonizing the shit out of you.  So you can imagine my surprise when he joined me on the couch last night for MTV's third installation of Jersey Shore.

As I was enjoying and he reviling the season premiere, he mentioned that there's a similar show in England. 

The program[me], aristocratically titled The Only Way Is Essex, features four birds, five blokes, and some kind of terrorist music group named LOLA.  These slags and prats are the Queen's answer to our gorilla juiceheads and guidettes.  Take Essex girl Candy Jacobs, a buxom blonde on the cusp of transvestite.  ITV2's website says of her, "Despite Candy's sweet exterior she is extremely ambitious and fiercely loyal to her friends and family."  Hold onto your G-string knickers, Snooki, because it looks like we got a Situation!  Only he's got teeth like a horse and his name is The East India Company.  Where do they find these clusters of cultural phenomena?  This is one of those times I really wish we hadn't killed all the Navajo, because I'd love to hear the creation myth.

I guess what I'm saying is that I could see myself learning to appreciate England if it's anything like what we've got here.  I'm still a bit concerned that I'll assimilate his anglicisms and transform into some kind of Weetabix-munching, Burberry-wearing, "r"-dropping Madonna goblin.  Or else I'll grow defiantly more American, angering my already Taco Bell-laden digestive system.  But I guess in the end, as long as he's too polite to acknowledge my muffled sobs and hysterical mood swings, the Padd-Man is all right with me.

**Names have been changed

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